


The Birthday Orgy that Wasn't

by whiskygalore



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Dean, M/M, More schmoop than sex, Protective Benny, Younger Dean, mentions of Dean/Gabriel/Castiel/Benny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4101766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskygalore/pseuds/whiskygalore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's night of debauched birthday fun doesn't go quite according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birthday Orgy that Wasn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majestic_duck (majesticduxk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk/gifts).



> A birthday gift for majestic_duck, which was supposed to be porny everyone/Dean fun, but ended up tooth rotting schmoop instead. I'd apologise but it's totally not my fault, Benny just wouldn't let Dean do it.

 

 

Benny's bathtub is a marvel of modern plumbing. Big enough to hold an orgy and comfortable enough to laze around in all day. Jets of water pulse and surge against Dean's skin easing every knot of stress from his body and leaving him practically boneless. The low thrum of Led Zeppelin flows through hidden speakers, and flickering candles (manly candles that smell of manly things and are in no way flowery or girly) cast a warm glow over the stark white tiles. Dean sighs and takes one final sip from the glass in his hand, fighting a grimace as the bubbles hit the back of his tongue. Although he's not enjoying the too dry, too expensive drink, it is possible that the champagne is contributing toward his general feeling of relaxed contentment.

"Champagne's not so bad after all then, Sugar?"

Dean opens his eyes at the sound of his boyfriend's drawl. He hadn't even realized that they'd drifted shut. Benny is leaning against the door jamb, sleeves of his white shirt rolled halfway up his muscled forearms and the top buttons undone just far enough for Dean to catch a tantalizing glimpse of dark chest hair. The man is gorgeous; tall, rugged, totally built and blue-eyed, everything that Dean has dreamed of since he stole his first gay porn mag....and then some. Dean is one very lucky boy. That doesn't mean he can't be a brat. "It tastes like cat piss," he retorts, carefully placing the long stemmed champagne flute on the shelf at the side of the bath.

Benny snorts and shakes his head. "You really don't appreciate the finer things in life, do you, Sweetheart?"

"Gassy cat's piss," Dean adds, wrinkling up his nose for effect.

"Okay, I get it, Sugar." Benny laughs. "Don't worry, I won't try to force feed you Dom Perignon again. I just thought since it was your birthday,  _your twenty first birthday_ , you deserved something extra special. Now that you're legal and all."

"I don't need extra special when I have you, Benny,” Dean says, and boy, he doesn't think that came out right.

Benny doesn't seem offended; he chuckles as he walks over, leans down and brushes his lips against Dean's head. Dean tips his neck back and offers his mouth up for a kiss instead. An invitation that Benny can never decline.

"So, birthday boy," Benny says, straightening up again once Dean's lips are suitably ravished. "You gonna get out that tub soon? The guys are going to be here in a little while and we don't want to keep them waiting too long."

"I don't know about that; pretty sure they wouldn't mind waiting for a piece of this hot ass." Dean smirks. Underneath his bravado though, a shiver of apprehension ripples down his spine like a trickle of ice water, and the mellow state of relaxation he’s cultivated abruptly dissipates.

"I'm sure you're right, Sugar." Benny agrees, grabbing a towel from the heated rail, "But your ass is going to be frozen if it stays in that bath much longer."

Benny may have a point there; the water is starting to cool now. Only a little grudgingly, Dean eases himself up, takes the towel, and even allows Benny to help him out of the tub despite the fact he is perfectly capable of stepping out of a bathtub himself - that time he slipped on the wet tile and nearly brained himself was totally a one off.

"I've left a little something on the bed for you," Benny stands back to give Dean room to dry himself, but Dean can feel his heavy lidded gaze on him like a brand. "You don't have to wear it, but I'd sure like it if you did."

"You know I’d do anything for you, Benny." Dean says easily, not noticing the way Benny stills for a second. Or the way his smile falters and the color suddenly drains from his face.

"Well, shit,” Benny exhales, the breath rushing out of him like he’s been punched in the gut. “Did you seriously hate that champagne, Dean?"

Dean stops rubbing dry his hair and quirks an eyebrow at Benny's abrupt change of topic. "No sorry, it was kinda disgusting."

"But you drank it anyway...all of it?"

Dean shrugs, not seeing the problem. "Well, yeah; you'd gone to the expense of buying the stuff, and taken the time and effort to run me a bath and light all those damn candles. It seemed a bit ungrateful not to drink the champagne."

"So you hated it, but you did it anyway - for me."

"Well, yeah." Dean says again, confusion clear in his narrowed eyes.

"Dean," Benny sighs.

"What?” Dean snaps in frustration. He doesn’t know what Benny’s trying to get at. “I don't see what the big deal is. I lo...like you...a lot. You make me happy. I want to make you happy."

"You do make me happy, Dean. Just being with you makes me happy. You don't have to do something you don't want to do just to impress me."

"I know, man. I'm not an idiot." Dean grumbles, bringing the towel back up to dry his hair, more because he wants to hide behind it than because his short hair needs any more attention.

"I know, Sweetheart, I know." Benny closes the space between them, his proximity forcing Dean to drop the towel again, and meet his concerned gaze. "I know you're a grown ass man, but I also know -"  _how desperate you are to be loved, how scared you are of being left alone again,_  - "that you would do anything for the people you love."

Dean's eyes widen at that. The L word has never been uttered between them, not once in the ten months they've been together. Benny doesn’t even acknowledge it though, just carries right on talking as though he'd never said it. "But I need to know that us...what we do...the things we do...that you enjoy them."

"I do." Dean says quickly, maybe too quickly. "You know I do."

"And tonight, with Cas and Gabe? Did you agree to it because you wanted to do it or to please me?"

"I..." Dean falters, just for half a beat, "I want to do it. You know I do. Shit, Benny, it was my idea."

"It was your _fantasy_ ," Benny corrects him. "And there's a big difference between jacking off to some fantasy about being dp'ed while choking on my cock and actually doing it."

A heated blush flares across Dean's face, the tips of his ears burning in embarrassment when he recalls the conversation. Somehow, and Dean's blaming it on the whisky - the good stuff that he could never afford to buy himself- somehow, a couple of months back, they'd ended up discussing their sexual fantasies; things they'd never done, hidden desires they'd never shared, kinks they didn’t talk about. It had all started off pretty harmlessly, nothing too hardcore. Dean had confessed his secret love of wearing butt plugs and being spanked, and Benny had admitted that he loved having his balls sucked and would come like a freight train if his partner talked dirty. Nipple clamps, cock cages and face-fucking had been heartily approved of by both of them, watersports and breath play... not so much. Then Dean had shyly described his fantasy of being in the middle of a gang bang, being filled and possessed and used. Benny had nearly come in his pants before Dean had finished describing how he wanted to be left lying in a pool of spunk and sweat, totally fucked out, jaw aching, lips swollen and raw, and his ass gaping open and dripping with come.

But Benny's right; while the late night fantasy is mind-blowingly hot, in the cold light of day the reality is slightly terrifying. No, not terrifying that's overstating it, it’s just that...well...Dean's just a little worried about being at the center of tonight's little party. But he does trust Benny. Absolutely. Unhesitatingly. And Cas and Gabe are nice guys, totally gorgeous too, so the tendril of fear twisting through his guts is nothing. Nothing important or worth worrying about. It's just nerves that's all. Performance anxiety maybe. And anyway, Dean's not a cocktease; he's not going to promise to do this and then chicken out. Benny deserves better than that.  _Better than Dean_  is the persistent whisper hissing through the murky depth of Dean's subconscious.

"Dean?" Benny prompts, voice as soft as the look in his eyes, and goddamn it all, Dean's fucking this up before the night's even started.

"You're joking right?" Dean says and produces Dean Winchester's patented shit-eating grin number thirty two. "You think I'm gonna pass up on the chance for a night with you, Cas and Gabe? I've been looking forward to this for weeks. It's gonna be fucking awesome."

"Really?" The skepticism dripping from Benny's tone is as thick as tar. Dean's sure he's going to call bullshit. Eventually though, long seconds after Dean's face starts hurting from maintaining his smirk, Benny simply shrugs, and smiles the lopsided grin that makes Dean's heart beat double time. "Whatever you say, Sugar, whatever you say."

Dean blinks in surprise. After the fuss that he’d just made about that damn glass of champagne he'd expected Benny to be harder to convince.

"I tell you what," Benny says, "Why don't you finish up in here and I'll go make sure we've got everything we need."

"Finish up?" Dean repeats, like a brainless idiot.

"Yeah, I think you could do with a shave, Sweetheart. That peach fuzz of yours is showing." Benny traces his thumb down the outline of Dean's jaw. And even as he's snarking back that he's twenty-one not twelve, and he actually has very rugged facial hair thank you very much, Dean can't stop himself from leaning into the light touch.

Benny's thumb continues its path, calloused skin brushing across Dean’s chin then skimming feather-soft across his lips. Dean closes his eyes and parts his lips on a sigh when Benny’s mouth follows suit. Considering they are about to have a night of wickedly filthy sex with two other guys, Dean would have thought the kiss would be demanding, possesive, but instead it's gentle, caring. There's something so unexpectedly sweet, so incredibly tender about it that Dean's left feeling light-headed, almost punch drunk. He's grateful that Benny's hands have curled around his hips, holding him steady, because he feels like he’s about to fly apart.

"I love you Dean." The words are whispered in his ear like a final caress when Benny pulls away. Dean watches him leave the room silently. He can't speak, can't say the words he wants to. Shit, he can barely breathe. He's so unsettled that it takes him twice as long as normal to shave. He locks his knees and stands rigid, gripping the edge of the wash basin and taking deep breaths for five minutes just to give his hands a chance to stop shaking. He doesn't know if he's jittery because he's about to be fucked by two other guys while his boyfriend watches or because his boyfriend just told him that he loves him. Even Dean is aware that’s pretty screwed up.

 

The nerves rolling in Dean's belly gain momentum with every step he takes closer to the bedroom. His heart rate steadily rises too, until it feels as though there's a storm raging inside his chest. He wants this Dean tells himself as he opens the bedroom door, trying hard to ignore the way his hand slips off the handle because his palms are suddenly slick with sweat. He expects there to be something kinky waiting for him on the bed. Something in leather or lace for him to wear. A jock strap, or panties, maybe a harness or a collar. He thought that there might be toys; clamps, a plug, gag or cuffs. He thought maybe Benny would be bored of waiting and all three men would be standing in the room, ready to grab Dean and get to the fucking part of the evening already. He hopes there might be liquor. Some of Benny's blue-label would be awesome round about now.

What he finds when he finally steps across the threshold is surprising enough that he stumbles over his own feet. The only things lying on the bed are Benny’s old wash-soft Longhorns T-shirt, and a ratty pair of pajama pants that Dean is unaccountably fond of. He looks around the room, certain that he's missing something, before staring intently at the clothes on the bed again.

"Are you planning on standing there all night, Sugar, or are you gonna get dressed?"

Dean nearly jumps out of his skin when Benny's hands settle just above the towel Dean has wrapped around his waist, his beard tickling the back of Dean's neck.

"I'm not sure....I...I don't understand what....what the hell, Benny? Is this your idea of a joke because I -"

Benny turns Dean in his arms, dips his head down and presses his lips against Dean’s, shutting him up quickly and efficiently. Not that Dean is complaining, not at all. While one of Benny’s hands spreads across Dean’s hip, and draws him in even closer, the other slides up Dean's spine and gently cups the back of his head, fingers dragging through the short hair at the nape of Dean’s neck.  Dean lets himself relax, and sink into his boyfriend’s embrace. Allows Benny to take his weight when the room starts to spin and his legs begin to tremble.

"I called the guys and cancelled." Benny's voice is like a calming balm to Dean's senses when he finally breaks the kiss long enough to speak.

"But.." Dean starts.

"But nothing." Benny instantly cuts him off. "You weren't ready. Not even close. Shit, Sweetheart; I wasn't ready. I want you all to myself tonight. Don't want to see anybody else touching you."

"But Cas, Gabe.."

"Cas and Gabe understand. I'm not saying never, Dean. I'm saying one day down the line, when we're both ready, okay?"

"But," Dean argues, "I would have....I was gonna....I love you." The words come out of Dean's mouth without thought, but Dean instantly finds that he doesn't regret them. He's not panicked or afraid. Now that he's said it, he's not sure why it took so long.

Benny's smile is wide and warm, but there's a flash of something in his eyes that Dean can't read. "I know, Sugar, and I love you too, but loving someone doesn't mean that you have to sacrifice yourself for them. You know that, right?"

"I know." Dean says, but he can't quite meet Benny's eye and embarrassingly, he can feel the tell-tale tingle of another blush blossoming across his face. God, Benny must feel like he's dating a kid sometimes. Dean might have a pretty face, but underneath he's nothing but a messed up bundle of insecurities and doubts.

"One of these days," Benny tips Dean's chin up with his thumb, "You're going to break my heart, Dean Winchester."

Before Dean can wrap his head around that bizarro statement, because that’s just plain insane, Benny's mouth is back on his with a fervor that leaves Dean breathless.

The night of Dean's twenty-first birthday doesn't go quite like Dean expected. Instead of playing out one of his wildest fantasies, he finds himself lying on the sofa with his boyfriend, watching reruns of the X-files, drinking corona and being spoon fed apple and blueberry pie after Benny shoves a candle in the middle of it and insists on singing an off-key rendition of happy birthday to him.

 

It's hands-down the best birthday Dean's ever had.

 

And later when Benny takes Dean to bed, lays him down like a treasure, strips him bare and makes love to him, it's gentle and sweet. Layer by layer, Benny peels back his defenses, breaking him wide open before carefully piecing him back together again stronger than ever before. The intensity in Benny's face, the pure depth of emotion than spills from his eyes is overwhelming. Dean feels the wetness on his cheeks, the teardrops clinging to his eyelashes and crawling down his neck. Dean Winchester doesn't cry during sex; it should be the most humiliating thing that's ever happened to him, but when Benny simply kisses away his tears and folds him into his arms, Dean – for the first time in too many years - feels nothing but loved and protected.

 

When Dean's twenty-second birthday rolls around, he finally convinces Benny to invite his friends around for some good-old filthy sex. He ends the night riding Cas with Gabe pushing into his stretched hole from behind and spanking his ass, while Benny kneels at his head and fucks his face. The reality it turns out, is so much better than the fantasy, if a little messier.

 

 

 


End file.
